Game of Stones
by Les Missedyercalls
Summary: Over 5,000 Story Hits! - Players of the game have numerous stories that depict their desires, dark secrets, and their need to cast the first stone: Married to Tyrion, Sansa wants Jaime to give her a child. Murderess Arya is being courted by a determined Gendry. Jon Snow is a captive of the fiery Khaleesi. King Joffrey & Cersei are terrorized by spirits of tormented Starks.
1. One

**Author's Note**: This story is inspired primarily by scenes from the Game of Thrones TV series (2011) and features a slightly futuristic, alternate turning of events.

Sansa is now closer to 20 years of age and Arya is in her late teens. I plan to introduce various POVs with numerous characters from the series as each chapter evolves, with pairings such as Arya/Gendry and Dany/Jon Snow.

I have rated the story Mature for content that will be featured in later chapters, including language, violence and sexual situations.

Please excuse mistakes to the British accent in these characters as I am American. I watch an awful lot of BBC America, yet I still tend to drift back to my Southern accent even in my head, which probably slips through into my writing without my knowledge.

I don't claim to own any rights to Game of Thrones or its affiliates. GOT and its characters are the creation of author George R. R. Martin and TV series creators David Benioff and D.B. Weiss.

One:

**Sansa**

I dreamed that I was falling; falling through a massive sky of cloudy grays and shimmering whites. No thought occurred to me but one of madness: Where have I gone?

I knew where I was. I was falling. Yet the words would not escape my mind. Where have I gone?

As I reached the edge of the sky, I found myself surrounded by slowly rising waters, warm like the sea, overwhelming me in a blanket as blue as my own eyes. It was not a sense of comfort, but a sense of foreboding, as if to tell me that my life would be over if the waters were to come alive and find me within it.

I thought of my father. I knew he could not save me, now. I thought of my sister. I wondered if Arya would hear me if I called out to her. I thought of Jon. I believed he would come if I called to him, yet how could he find me if I were lost at sea?

"Wake, Sansa," I heard a voice from afar call to me.

The voice grew louder and repeated its phrase until my eyes fluttered open and I was aware of the sun shining upon my face from the lookout. I turned to find Tyrion awake beside me, and recognized his voice as the one who rescued me from the deep and endless sea.

"Is something the matter?" I asked with curious voice.

Tyrion shook his head, though his eyes were sad as he replied, "You appeared to be having another nightmare. I did not want to wake you, but I was concerned when you began sobbing in your sleep."

I was not aware of the tears that stained my face until he made it known. I reached up to touch my cheeks and found them to be soaking wet. Tyrion reached his small hand out to wipe the stains away, but I moved to rise out of bed before he could touch me.

He said nothing of my need to remain distant from him. He only informed me with the same kind tone he regularly used when speaking of our secret subject, "Have you found a suitor, yet?"

I closed my eyes to gather myself before my true emotion shone through. It had been nearly five years since we were married. Tyrion had always respected my desire never to consummate our marriage, yet I was expected to deliver a child. We had come to an agreement that I was allowed to become pregnant by any man I chose, so long as the child was born believing himself to be a true Lannister.

"If my sister can fuck my brother and get away with his offspring as royalty worthy of the Throne, we can certainly create a similarly outrageous claim of our own," Tyrion surmised it this way.

It pained me to shake my head once more. I had made this motion so many times, I had grown afraid that Tyrion would soon lose his patience and take me for the sake of finishing what must be done. He remained calm, yet reminded me softly, "My father is not as patient as I am, Dear Sansa. I do not want to burden you any further, but a decision for a proper suitor must be made."

My emotion was hardly contained as I faced him with a forced smile. He saw straight through my attempt at falsehood and I allowed a small part of my sadness to surface. Tyrion immediately showed guilt and said, "I am truly sorry, Sansa, but it must be done."

"I understand," I nodded to him.

I refused to allow the blinding hatred and the sea of agony I felt inside to make its way to my eyes, for I knew Tyrion would surely see it.

If it were not for his kindness, I could consider taking a knife to his throat while he slept, only to lay blame on Cersei. If I were once a little bird, I had become something else. Something less innocent. Something less tame.

All I want is to be free of my cage, yet these broken wings refused to allow me to find my escape.

* * *

**Arya**

"Put it over there," Joffrey commanded.

I placed his goblet of wine on the table where he had pointed, knowing full well he would accuse me of making a mistake within seconds.

"Not there, you stupid girl! I said over there!" he roared, pointing to a completely different spot with a wicked smile.

He enjoyed teasing me as much as Margaery enjoyed flaring her nostrils. King's Landing surely stank, yet I did not believe that Margaery's face would change if she were put in another location free of odors.

I placed the goblet down where he pointed and awaited further instruction. Joffrey deliberately ignored me so I would be forced to watch him sift through his endless wardrobe for something to wear.

As if changing his clothes were the only issue.

"You may go, Arya," Margaery gave me leave.

She was kind enough to release me from Joffrey, yet I still hated her.

I wandered along the stone halls without a certain place to be. I only wanted to remain hidden from everyone and everything that surrounded me. I had no identity here; another faceless name in a sea of servants and prisoners with nowhere else to go.

If I had not been caught by the gold cloaks and brought back here, I would've surely made it back to Winterfell and back to my family. It felt like an eternity had passed for me here, yet around every turn, I was reminded that my father was killed here, my sister was forced to marry a Lannister here, and I had been named Tywin's cup bearer and Joffrey's errand girl so long as I remain here.

When I came upon a plot of stone far from guards and servants and every other fool, I stamped my feet and screamed out what rage I could not hide, reserving the rest for hard words, "I wish you were dead, King Joffrey! I wish you were dead!"

"You plannin' to kill 'im yourself, then?" Gendry's voice made echo across the stone plot.

I turned to face him coming from the stone hall where I had been moments ago. He carried an apple in his hand and a smirk on his face as he took a bite and replied with mouth dripping of juices, "I should turn you in!"

"You wouldn't!" I narrowed my eyes at him.

He remained smug and leaned against the wall as if it were made to hold him up. He had aged since we met first, and he had almost grown out a beard, making his eyes shine a lighter shade of the sky. When I was captured, he followed me back to King's Landing. Under an assumed name, he had convinced Tywin Lannister to appoint him as blacksmith to the King's Guard. His choice to remain here for any reason was pointless in my eyes.

As he continued to annoyingly remind me, I was what kept him here.

"I might, or maybe you'll finally give in an' marry me so I can't tell Joffrey or risk losing my lovely wife," he grinned.

I made face similar to Margaery's sense of constant stink and yelled, "You disgust me!"

"Oh really? Is that why you're lookin' at me like I've come to rescue you just now?" he grew serious.

I stormed past him and called over my shoulder, "I wasn't looking at you except with disgust, Gendry!"

He continued the game even as I was leaving, calling back to me, "How could you say such harsh words, Lady Stark?! For I am Gendry Baratheon, son of King Robert, and my eyes are only for you!"

I stopped to turn and face him as I argued, "You are not a Baratheon! It's just a story you were told by Renly's followers so they have a reason to believe Joffrey doesn't deserve the Throne!"

Gendry's usual smirk faded. I knew I had taken it on for too long. He told me with thickness in his voice, "Do you truly believe I am not worthy of your hand?"

I made a long sigh. With a shake of my head, I told him softly, "It's not about your worth, Gendry. I simply believe that claims to the Throne are just that—claims. It has been five years, and Joffrey is still King."

As he lowered his gaze to nod, I turned again to leave. Gendry returned to his game before and proclaimed, "I'm obligated to report what you've said to the King!"

"Do it, then!" I shot back, knowing full well he wouldn't.

* * *

**Daenerys**

"There are many coming to bear you gifts, Khaleesi, as they do not want you to invade and destroy their lands," Mormont informed me.

"I will accept their gifts, yet I am not prepared to give them an answer on the fate of their lands," I replied strongly.

Mormont only gave a short nod before leaving the tent. He returned moments later with an expression of concern that I had not seen, before. I waited for him to explain the matter behind his intense emotion, yet he made no words save for a motion to the opening of the tent.

Two men entered wearing furs that I believed could only come from The North. They were large, strong and obediently kept their heads down as they came closer. They carried a third man between them, also covered in furs, but his furs were as black as the thick curls that laced his head.

The two men halted before me and let the third man drop to his knees. The third man appeared deeply exhausted and refused to lift his head. The man on the left took a knot of curls in his hand and roughly raised the third man's head. When I looked into his eyes, I saw overwhelming sadness reflecting back at me.

"What is your name, Man of the North?" I asked him kindly.

His eyes gazed into mine and widened as if I were the first sight of the sun shining through a constant midnight. He observed my long waves of hair for the longest moment before making an expression as though he had realized something. His jaw tightened and his eyes grew dark, and I understood that he knew my namesake.

The man on the left let go of his thick curls and the third man lowered his head once more. The man on the right with beard of red spoke in a booming voice, "Daenerys Targaryen, we proclaim you rightful ruler of The Iron Throne, and in exchange for your mercy concerning The North, we have brought you the last known Ruler of Winterfell since the death of King Robb."

Both men lowered their gaze to remember their fallen King. The third man made a slight sound resembling a whimper, but said nothing. I asked the man with beard of red, "Why have you taken your own Ruler and brought him to me?"

The man replied harshly, "He is a traitor to The North, My Lady! He climbed The Wall with Wildlings and tried to destroy us all!"

The third man finally raised his head and roared, "That's a lie! I was no traitor! I only wanted to-"

He was cut off when the man with beard of red hit him across the face. The brutality inflamed me inside, yet I was too curious to know the name of this said traitor to exact revenge.

"What is his name?" I asked the man with beard of red.

"His name is Jon Snow. He is the bastard son of Eddard Stark, believed to be the only son left of House Stark."

"Believed? There were more beyond King Robb?" I was unaware.

"Two young boys, My Lady. They were burned during an invasion by the very Greyjoy who was raised like a son to Lord Stark," the man told me.

My eyes fell upon the man they called Jon Snow. He remained in the dirt with little emotion across his face. Whatever he had felt for his brothers or the betrayal of Greyjoy, he had long since buried it far beneath his skin.

"I will accept your offering, Men of the North," I beckoned their leave.

They seemed uncertain of my motives even as they disappeared in the night beyond the tent flaps. Mormont turned to face me and argued, "You cannot keep this boy, Khaleesi. He is dressed as a Crow. He is not only a traitor to his people but to all of Westeros for abandoning The Watch-"

Jon rose up and raged violently, "I didn't abandon anyone! I was trying to save you all! Save you from-"

He halted as soon as his eyes found mine, again. Whatever words threatened to escape his mouth were gone now, replaced by a voice of calm that sounded many leagues away, "I was no longer wanted by The Watch. Most of my family and those I've loved are dead. I received word that my sister, Sansa Stark, was going to be murdered, so I was on my way to King's Landing to rescue her and Arya when I was captured."

He paused before confessing, "I only wanted to save what was left of my family. I will do anything to protect them. I know not of what you plan to do with me, Lady Targaryen, but I promise you that I will take every chance to escape from you for the sake of my girls."

I admired his honesty and took only a moment to be hesitant before I replied just as strongly, "There is no need to escape from me, Jon Snow, for I am also destined for King's Landing."

His voice faltered slightly as he asked, "You plan to take back The Iron Throne?"

I gave him the lightest of smiles as I answered, "I cannot take what is already mine, Jon Snow."


	2. Two

Two:

**Jaime**

I heard the red-haired bird wander up the stone steps. She was not aware that I was awaiting her, yet when she saw me, she smiled and breathed a light sigh as one would to an old friend. I would have returned the smile, had I not been so jaded.

"What brings you to my nest, Bird?" I teased her.

Her blue eyes shone an expression like ice of the North. Once an admirer of men of strength who doted on their every word, whether teasing or affectionate, Lady Sansa had long since lost her playful soul to another realm. Perhaps that was where my lost hand rested as well.

"I'm terribly bored. I was wondering what you were doing," she glanced down at my lap.

I was seated back in a large chair while busily working at something I had long since regretted taking part in. Sansa observed a moment before making a puzzled expression as she asked, "Are you knitting?"

"Attempting to, yes," I placed the needles between the fingers of my more fortunate hand.

Sansa brought her gaze to mine, believing my words to be yet another stab at fun making. I assured her that it was not by adding further, "I was told it would improve the function of my single hand. I also believe it will be a source of overwhelming humor for Tyrion, now that he is no longer the one people are joking about."

"No one is joking about you," Sansa said it as if she knew this for certain.

I could not help but regain a humorous sense as I replied, "Well then, perhaps my single-handed wonders will appeal to Cersei and she will no longer see it fit to ignore the gimp she used to call brother."

Sansa's eyes created a solemn expression of understanding. She was there when my return to King's Landing went from being the happiest moment of my life to the very worst when my dear twin sister Cersei could only stare at the stump that was my sword hand before taking her leave. I had become a model of imperfection to her, and whatever bond we once shared had been broken. My sister was Queen Regent. I was a former legend locked away in a tower learning to knit.

"You should not call yourself a gimp. It's a rude word that belongs to men who have done much less than you have," Sansa informed me.

"Oh, really? What have I done, hmm?" my sense of humor had given away to ever-building frustration.

"You have done many things, Ser Jaime! You have fought in battles! You've returned home despite being held captive by your enemies! You have faced certain death and survived!"

Her words were meant to comfort, yet they only served to inflame the rage within.

I spoke before I took time to think, "Well, I certainly am a source of admiration for you, Little Bird! What would you like in return for showering me with such praise? Would you like me to fuck you?!"

Sansa immediately closed her small mouth and her ice-filled eyes widened with both shock and awe. For a moment, I saw but a glimmer of her true thoughts, and I admit I felt no disgust by what I had seen.

She turned away and rushed back down the spiral steps in hopes of evading the truth. She was too late. I had already viewed it.

Lady Sansa was the first woman in five years that wanted me to bed her. This struck me peculiar, as Tyrion was not known to be displeasing in the carnal world.

Then I became most fully aware: Lady Sansa had not yet been touched.

* * *

**Theon Greyjoy**

**Now Known As "Reek"**

Years of torture. Ramsay Bolton has stolen my days and my nights. I dream of him, frightened by him, running from him, yet I realize only at the end of every nightmare when I awaken that it is my own sight I am fleeing from. I have escaped him. Long ago, escaped him, yet I feel as much a prisoner of him as if he were standing before me.

So long, I have wandered through the trees. Somewhere in the North? Somewhere else? I know not where I am. This land is unfamiliar to me. I am so hideous, there are none who will offer to take me with them along the beaten pathways. I've sworn I have crossed a Wildling or two, and not even they would dare to look upon me.

And then. A light.

The light of a fire posted at the forefront of a carriage. It did not occur to me that a woman were holding the reigns until she spoke to tell me, "Get out of the way, old man!"

She ordered with loud voice as though to speak to someone who were deaf. Her likely assumption was that I had wandered out into the road from lack of proper senses and I was very near to being killed.

She did not understand that death was my intention.

I had already been seen by her, and so I knew she would not be the one to take my life. I hobbled to one side of the pathway and beckoned her to carry on. She was not like most others who quickly passed on, but remained where she was as she asked, "Are you in great need, old man? I have food and water for you, if you like."

She reached behind her and pulled out a bag made of skin. I had witnessed Ramsay flay enough men alive to know the appearance of dried human skin.

"You are a cannibal?" I pointed to her bag with only a stub of a finger.

She shook her head and remarked with a slight chuckle, "I am a wanderer. I travel to places where resources are so scarce that a human corpse must be dealt with the same as a boar."

Her motives could have been false and meant to persuade me to come with her, only to become her next meal, but I was no longer afraid of death, nor did my gut tell me that she was a threat.

"Would you carry an old man with you?" I asked quietly.

I was prepared for her answer to be a strict no, or that she would take me to the next village and leave me behind. Instead, she gave me a swift nod and waited for me to take a seat next to her on the carriage.

"I can take the back," I began to wander around her, but she insisted, "Please, come up here with me. I have not had company in so many months."

"I must warn you, Milady, my stench is not worthy of the senses," I informed her honestly.

She said nothing in protest, even as I took my place next to her. It were as if she could not breath in my retched scent at all. I had not bathed in years. I had spent my time with Ramsay covered in shit and filth. Yet this woman, this unusually kind woman, spoke nothing of my ills or my fearsome expression.

The woman clicked her tongue and her horse began guiding us through the night. I asked as we went forward, "Why have you come alone through this pathway during a moonless night? Aren't you aware of thievery and certain danger?"

Her laugh was like a short hiss as she argued, "I am not afraid of death."

A sense of curiosity as to who this woman was filled my mind with assumptions. Paranoia should have set in, yet I found only a sense of kinship with her, as if she were Asha come to take me away from a long and relentless darkness.

"You seem familiar to me," I dared to make my impression known.

She glanced at me with widened eyes and made astonished reply, "I feel the same way of you. What is your name, old man?"

"I am not an old man. I've spent many years with someone who turned me into this. I am only called Reek, now. I have nearly forgotten my true name."

She made puzzled expression and asked, "Do you remember where you hail from?"

I had to sink much more deeply into my thoughts. Only Asha came to mind. I was aware that telling this woman I were a Greyjoy could be a mistake punishable by death. If I were still in the North, there was only a single place lost to war that would still inspire compassion.

"I hail from Winterfell."

The woman sat back and breathed a long sigh, as if this revelation were something of great importance to her. She kept her gaze straight ahead as she processed what I had said and made soft reply after a long silence, "You are Theon."

"I did not kill Bran and Rickon, if that is what you are thinking," I narrowed my eyes at her.

She shook her head as if she were not even aware of such a claim and relayed to me, "I have seen Rickon. He is alive and well. He claims Bran has gone far beyond The Wall."

These words astonished me. I was made aware of Robb and Catelyn's passing from thieves wandering drunkenly along the pathway while I was in hiding. I was made aware of Jon Snow's attempt to take on the role of King in the North by a carriage of whores speaking loudly as they too passed me by. Mention of Sansa and Arya were only fragments of rumors, and I had yet to hear of their fates or the fates of the boys I was branded with an eternity of pain for presumably killing.

"Who are you that you know of the fates of those from Winterfell?" I argued.

She made a short smile and pulled her cloak back to reveal strands of long blond hair. Again, I felt a sense of the familiar, but even her hair, the color of sunlit grain, could not bring me the name I sought after.

"I am Bree Caltor. I was a friend to you and Robb when we were still just children, playing in the fields and talking of days when we would ride away together and be rulers of our own lands."

"I remember you," I spoke softly, as our childhood image came into focus.

She was not of noble birth. Her parents were common people, yet Robb took zealous interest in her because of her fair complexion and lighter hair. She was the only friend who did not make me feel as an outsider and held my hand as much as she held Robb's, though the fantasies we told of our futures were of Bree becoming Robb's betrothed.

"Your brother murdered a man. We never saw you or your family again after that," I remembered.

She nodded and told me, "Arias is no longer alive. His head was taken along with his hands when he was caught bedding a nobleman's mistress."

"He was never one for making good choices," I remarked.

Bree cocked her head to one side and informed me darkly, "It doesn't look like you've made many good choices either, Theon."

"I do not recognize that name, anymore," the mere word gave me a splitting headache.

She replied with short chuckle, "Well, you certainly do not look like a Reek to me."

* * *

**Gendry**

I hated to sleep in the bed that was given to me. It was too soft and smelled of lavender. My quarters were fit for a king. Only the best for Maester Blacksmith to the King's Guard.

It made me ill. I had never known such a beautiful room in all my life. Why do I deserve it, now? I do what I love and I do not expect such reward for it. The only thing I want is not something I could truly possess.

Most nights, I would wander awake in the abandoned areas of the castle. There were times when I would speak to the night watchmen, if only to lessen the boredom we both felt, then I would wander alone again, waiting for sunrise or taking sleep in random nooks wherever I could find one that suited me.

I had only recently found a nook to my liking. It was shaped like an archway a few feet above the stone floor in one of the South hallways. The night watchmen almost never wandered past it and it had a great view of the open sea. The breeze would hit the archway just right, allowing me coolness and peace while I captured the few hours of sleep I had before finding myself awake for long periods, again.

I was there, in the archway, sound asleep when a familiar voice awoke me from my dreams.

"Daaaaad? Daaaaaady! Daaaaaad!" the voice moaned as it came closer.

I sat up straight and craned my neck to look down the dark passageway. The moonlight was the only source for my eyes to focus on who was before me. She stepped out from behind a pillar and wandered towards me, but her eyes were lost as if she were not aware that I was there.

"Arya?" I whispered, thinking she were playing some sort of a game.

"Daaaaaaad!" she wailed, the sound filled with pain and a desperation I had never heard from her, before.

My heart filled with concern. She was loud enough that someone would hear her, and she could face punishment for it. I stepped down from the archway and stood in her path. Arya stopped before me, but her eyes would not meet mine. Her mouth was open and she were gasping as though she could not capture the air. Her face was stained with tears and her hands were shaking. She looked as though in a dream, yet she were standing upright and talking as though awake.

"Arya?" I whispered to her once more.

She did not respond to me. I dared to reach up and place my hands gently on either side of her face as I asked again, "Arya?"

"Dad?" she looked past me.

I believed nothing would be there when I took a glance over my shoulder in the direction Arya was staring. I was taken aback when I beheld a figure there. He was very tall and wide, as if he were wearing many coats like men of the North. He carried a sword that shined in the light of the moon, telling me that he were truly there. Yet, when I searched for his eyes, I saw nothing. It appeared he was shrouded in darkness, at first. Then, as I looked more closely, I was made aware that I could not meet his eyes because they were not there.

He was headless.

"Gendry?" Arya croaked.

I turned away from the terrifying figure only to witness another horrible sight. Arya was awakened now and out of trance. Her eyes were wide and she stared at me as if I had taken her from her bed and awakened her here as a cruel joke. I told her quickly, "You were out here, alone. I heard you calling and I came to see what was the matter."

"Calling? Calling for who?" she seemed unaware of her actions.

"You were saying, 'Dad.'" I claimed.

Her entire face fell and I regretted telling her the truth. She pulled my hands away from her face and took off down the hall. I thought to follow after her, but I was suddenly made aware of the figure I had seen, and I turned to face him, again.

He was no longer there. Only the light of the moon shone in his place.

* * *

Author's Note: To avoid confusion (And possible cranial explosion from those straining to remember who the hell Bree is), Bree Caltor is an original character that I've created to continue a Theon storyline because I feel that cocky sonnabitch deserves a light at the end of the tunnel! If there were GOT t-shirts that said: I HATE TORTURE, I would buy one. Seriously.

Sorry to go all Ghost Hunters on ya'all, but yes, there will be more appearances from Ned's ghost in later chapters. He haunts King's Landing a la' Hamlet and it's unclear even to myself whether he will be a good ghost or a bad ghost as the story unfolds (Can't drop a house on that kind of crazy, can you, Joffrey?! Did I mention I like to torture Joffrey in unusual ways? Spoiler).


	3. Three

Three:

**Joffrey**

"_No, King Joffrey! Please, don't kill me!" the man begged._

"_Joffrey, you can't! We admire you! We belong to you!" a woman wailed._

_I laughed and watched as they all sat on their knees around me, arms flailing and tongues wagging like swine desperate for mother's teats._

_I would spare none of them. They will all die before me._

_My executioners were all standing above them, awaiting my motion to swing their swords. I waited a moment longer; soaking in the beauty of it all._

"_Please, Joffrey! Don't do this!" Mother warned me._

_A wicked hiss escaped my lips as I told her truthfully, "I will do what I please."_

_I gave the order with a single nod, and all eighteen swords fell nearly at once. I kept my eyes on the last sword, the one that struck Mother's neck with squelching accuracy, and I laughed as her head hit the floor with a thud like horse droppings._

I woke to the daylight and breathed a peaceful sigh. My dreams weren't always so pleasant.

The sunlight came in through the sill and struck one side of my face. It burned slightly, but a little pain never bothered me. I normally began my day turned away from the light, yet on this morning, an unknown force tempted me to look out at the sea beyond King's Landing.

As soon as my eyes beheld the frame of the window, I was caught by surprise at a shadow standing within it.

My first glance of the figure drew confusion. It was too large and I could not make out the eyes. As I sat there, staring, it took a moment longer for me to realize that the figure had no eyes.

"Who are you? Get away from there!" I rushed to grab my crossbow.

I gave no further warning. I shot at the figure justifiably, as it were my window it was peering into. The arrow went straight into the figure...and passed through the other side.

I could see the arrow vanish far past the figure. It was then that I realized the figure was not solid.

"WHO ARE YOU?!" I screamed to get its response.

The figure did nor said anything. It merely remained at the window and I remained where I was until it slowly drifted away like smoke from an extinguished fire.

I ran to the window to spy the elusive beast before it could get away. When I searched around the outside, however, I saw no one leaving and experienced more confusion when it was made known to me that my window stood many meters above the space where an assassin could stand. If the figure were a man, he would have had to use rope or some other means to elevate himself to my window. This also meant that he was likely still nearby.

"Where are you, coward?!" I yelled, hoping to entice him out of his hiding place.

I still saw no one. Rage filled my insides as I screamed, "I DON'T CARE WHO YOU ARE! I'LL HAVE YOUR HEAD!"

A deep and vengeful voice, but of a whisper, said from just behind my right ear, "You already have my head."

I turned to face the source of the voice. Again, there was no one.

* * *

**Cersei**

"Mother?! Mother, someone is in my room!" Joffrey shook me awake.

My eyes were bleary, yet the blue in my son's eyes was never lost to me. I asked him with deep concern, "Who is in your room, my King?"

He opened his mouth in response, yet nothing came out. He closed it after a long while and only spared a shake of his head. I asked for further clarity, "Could you describe them to me?"

Again, a shake of his head. I showed no doubt on my face of his plight, yet I found it unusual that he was not aware of someone he appeared to so dislike. He began pacing at my bedside, arguing more to himself than I, "There was someone in my room, and I'm going to find him! I'm going to take his head, no matter what!"

I laughed to ease his suffering, asking softly, "How can you take his head when you did not see his face, my son?"

Joffrey stood still and stared as if I had caused offense. The smile faded from my lips and he made no small threat, "I will find the man who was in my room, even if it means I have to take the heads of everyone in King's Landing, first!"

He stormed away and left the room, yet I did not feel alone.

I was aware of what he had seen. Ned Stark had been haunting me, as well.

* * *

**Jon Snow**

"Ugh! It's too hot! How can you stand the pain of the sun in this place?!"

Dany made laughter the sound of doves and soft bells as she watched me remove the furs that I had worn from the North. In this place, my furs were of little consequence beyond trading for water.

"You are a source of humor, Jon Snow. I was not aware that Northmen were any more funny than the Dothraki!"

This time, Mormont laughed with her. To what Dothraki had to do with my plight, I had no idea.

Dany only let her bright smile fade as she spoke of strategy, "We will be freeing slaves and conquering cities on our way to King's Landing."

Mormont made nod of agreement, but I was tempted to argue, "How long will this take?"

Dany's eyes, the color of thunderstorms when she was angry, began to change as I stole away her words. She made correction as quickly as she smiled, "I must free all of my people before I can be a true ruler. One who allows others to remain enslaved is a slave, themselves."

Her words were honorable. And true. I knew it, and yet I also knew that my sisters could be dead at any moment.

"Saving everyone would mean it could take years to reach King's Landing! I can't leave my sisters to horrible fates until that time!"

Dany's intensity softened at the mention of my sisters, but only slightly. Her words passed through my mind like an echo as she stated calmly, "You know nothing of what it is to rule, Jon Snow."

I was reminded of someone I cared not to remember.

"Ygritte," her name escaped my lips before I could shut it away, again.

"What?" Dany asked, confusing the name with an uncommon word.

I stood up from before her and made a slight bow before taking my leave. She called to me, "Jon? Jon, where are you going?"

"I will stay nearby," I called back to her, if only to be left alone in my misery.

* * *

**Gendry**

"So, you're still not speaking to me, are you?"

Arya wouldn't even look at me. I grinned, anyway.

She pretended to be lost gathering water from a rain barrel while we stood together in a stone walkway. I was well aware that she still believed I had led her out of the castle while she was asleep to awaken her in an unfamiliar place beyond her bed as a cruel joke.

"I didn't lead you to the hall, you know. I was only looking out for you when I realized you were walking in your sleep and you were calling out to your father-"

"Shut up! I don't want to talk to you, again! Ever!" Arya spat at me.

Her eyes were like fire. She appeared certain that I was to blame and nothing else.

I was about to argue her certainty once more when King Joffrey himself arrived without notice. I stood at attention, but Arya remained unconcerned, even as Joffrey faced her and argued, "Are you playing games with me, Stark?"

"What? What games?" she was truthfully confused.

Joffrey ignored Arya's question and argued angrily, "You dressed up in furs like your father used to wear and you hung yourself by a rope outside my window to scare me! Admit it! Admit it, or I'll have your tongue served to your sister!"

It took most of my efforts not to strike the young king where he stood. Arya shot back, unwavering, "I did nothing of the sort! I would never pretend to be my father! Why would I want to stand outside your window when I could come in and see you anytime I wanted!"

Joffrey took a single step back, as if he had not considered his own fallibility by allowing Arya unguarded access to him. I could only think to defend Arya by saying, "She could not have been outside your window, My King. I have been keeping eyes on her all morning."

King Joffrey turned to face me as if he hardly knew I was there until I spoke. His eyes narrowed with suspicion, then grew normal again as he assumed my eyes on Arya were meant for his protection, and not because I could not stand to break them away from her.

"Very well," he informed me, then he turned his attention to Arya and said coldly, "It's no matter, really. If it's someone playing games or the ghost of Ned Stark himself, I will find a way to kill him over and over again until he is gone from this earth for good."

Joffrey turned on his heel to leave, and Arya took the moment to attempt a punch to his spine. I stood between them and caught her before she could make her move, and Joffrey saw none of it. I waited until he was completely unseen before I let Arya go. She fought to push away from me, though her eyes were not as hateful to look upon me as they were moments ago.

"I hate him," she seethed.

I nodded and warned her, "You have every right to, but you should not be so stupid as to fall into his trap, M'Lady."

"Don't call me that," she stormed away from me.

At least the response meant she was speaking to me, again.

* * *

**Littlefinger**

I was told Catelyn Stark lives.

I am on a quest to retrieve her undead body.

Whether she is truly alive again is not my concern. I simply want her body.

The stories of the undead and the White Walkers are rumors of the Northmen to frighten the rest of us into thinking they are fierce warriors, defending The Wall so that the rest of Westeros can thrive in peace.

What a fucking frock.

I've considered both options, however. If Catelyn is dead, I will take the remnants of her body and carry them with me. The thought of it is morbid, though it fulfills the desire I always had to be with her. On the other hand, if she is truly the living dead, The Lannisters will be more than willing to give me whatever I want in exchange for something so rare.

Perhaps they would be willing to trade me Sansa Stark for a Walking Dead Stark?

My quest is not only for personal reasons. King Joffrey had me thrown out of King's Landing when I was accused of murder, and this will put me back into his good graces.

If it does not work, I will have to find another way to appease him. That seems to be the theme of my lifetime: Appeasing the needs of others.

If I were king, I would have them all fucked to death.

* * *

**Margaery**

King Joffrey must never find out.

If he did, he would not think of me as much like him. He would instead use it to torment me, and further, Queen Regent Cersei would do the same. I refuse to be their play thing.

Littlefinger didn't kill anyone.

I did.


	4. Four

**Four:**

**Gendry**

It always seemed like I was minding my own when Arya would decide to spring into sight and ruin my chances at a normal day.

Not that I wanted it to be normal, actually.

I caught her out of one corner of my eye while I was working on a custom piece of armor. I chose to put away my tools and follow after her, just to capture a glimpse of my love while she was not aware of me. I wondered many times if she were a different person when I wasn't around. Maybe she was kinder? Gentler? Perhaps more of a rebel? A thief? A sorceress? The possibilities were endless, though knowing her as I did, I doubted she was much more than what she always portrayed to me: A young, fiery girl with angelic eyes and the saddest smile you've ever laid eyes upon.

Using a cloak to mostly conceal myself, I hid amongst the masses of King's Landing while I followed her down the filthy roads to market. After a few moments it became clear that she would never catch me, for she kept her head low and facing forward the whole time. It were as if she cared not whether beggars and thieves tried to attack her. She seemed unconcerned with the children that nearly toppled her as they rushed past. She never once looked up to the rather bright blue sky for a glimpse of life away from the cold stone of castle walls. She appeared almost invisible to her surroundings, and they ignored her just the same.

She wandered deep into the crowd of the market, where it became more difficult to follower her. It wasn't long before she stopped suddenly and made an abrupt turn to her right. I stopped cold for a moment, believing that I had somehow been caught and she was doubling back to find me, but when she did not come forward, I resumed my walk and continued until I stood where she once was.

There was a long and dark pathway between stacks of so-called living spaces to the right. If she had dared to go down this path as I believed she had, she was taking her own life in her hands, for this was a place in King's Landing where even I feared to tread.

I thought to call her name, but the notion seemed foolish. Those in this pathway would not answer my call, but wait for me to come forth before they drove a knife into my chest and stole all I carried with me. I wandered down the pathway with heightened senses, knowing full well that I could be horribly mistaken as to where Arya had gone off to. I thought it wise that, if I made it out alive, I should not tell her that I proved life and limb in order to assure her safety. She would probably do worse to me than what those in this pathway planned to do if she were aware I had followed her.

A noise in the distance stopped me short. I could hear the sound of mumbling, or perhaps coughing, coming from a breakaway just ahead. It appeared as a makeshift tunnel at the base of one of the living spaces, probably a place where killers could easily drag a victim to and leave them where they lay with no one ever willing to search for them.

Gut feelings crept up my spine, leaving a taste of metal in my mouth. The sounds were not normal, and I feared the worst as I dared to come near it, believing I would find Arya being violated or worse by a creature without morals.

As I came close, the sounds became more familiar. I had heard them, before. They were the sounds of someone choking on their own blood, sounds that happened more often when the throat had been opened up in some way. Images of Arya filled my mind as I rushed to the opening and leaned in to see the damage for myself. It took moments of time to understand that I was not seeing Arya _being killed_ by someone. I was seeing Arya _killing_ someone.

She was stabbing him over and over, again, though he appeared long dead. His gray eyes were staring upward at an odd angle, his neck slumped against the wall of the tunnel and his body draped across the filth covered floor. I thought to scream Arya's name; to shout at her and yell at her to stop, but all words escaped me. The man's blood was splattering all over her face and her clothes, dying her skin a furious deep red, yet she continued to gut him; her eyes devoid of emotion and her lips set in a thin line.

"You were there when my mother was killed! You deserve to die!" She suddenly spat at the man, as if he were still alive enough to hear her.

His body was covered so fully in slashes, he didn't appear human, anymore. He was deflated and smashed into the ground below him, as if he had been crushed by many stone. Arya only stood up when she was certain he would not move again, and although it was probably mere moments after I found her, it seemed an eternity before she came back to me, again.

"Arya," My voice sounded but a whisper.

"You shouldn't have followed me," Arya spoke it as if I were to know better.

I wasn't aware she was wearing a cloak until she untied it and used the cloth to wipe herself clean of the blood she had spilled. She tossed the cloak into the tunnel and walked away with the ease of an innocent. I dropped my own cloak and ran after her, believing she would try and leave me behind, but she allowed me to catch up with her. She was not afraid of consequence as she stared up at me with the same stunning eyes I've always known, her desire to kill as much a part of her as her desire to remain connected to me.

_I had never in all my life laid eyes upon a killer so beautiful. _

"Arya," I whispered again, unable to speak with much force.

"You must think I am mad," she stated darkly.

I could only smile regardless of the morbid circumstances as I told her thickly, "I am a Baratheon, Arya. I understand fury more than most."

She did not argue when I came closer. She continued to stare up at me, even as I leaned in to place my lips against hers. She allowed me to take a tender kiss, the first between us and only the second in my lifetime, and she did not fall away when I reached my arms around her to take her into me more deeply.

Her lips satisfied many needs at once, more than I believed I had for her, yet not every need could be fulfilled in such a crowded and dangerous place. Despite knowing that we could not physically come together here, my groin responded to Arya the same as it did when I dreamed of her by nightfall, or when I thought of her as my wife, her belly swollen with our child. It pained me to move as I leaned Arya against a nearby stone wall, pressing myself more firmly against her so that she too could know how she inspired me.

A small noise escaped her lips and vibrated through mine. It was not a noise of wrongdoing, though it beckoned me to release my hold against her mouth. Her eyes were still with mine as I pulled away for only a moment. It was long enough for her to kick up her knee to strike me in the one place I could not recover from.

"AAAGGGGGGHHHH!" I screamed, stumbling to my knees.

Tears filled my eyes as my body remained frozen in horrific pain. Arya did not wait for me to react to her denial of my affections. She told me just as sternly as always, "If you must call me M'Lady, you will treat me like one!"

She stepped around me and sauntered off to make her point. My shock gave way to rage as I understood that she had just used my own tease against me. If she were anyone else, I would hunt her down and beat her arse raw.

Arya was the love of my life, but I wasn't completely beyond the point of giving her a good whipping for potentially ruining the possibility of me ever filling her with child.

* * *

**Theon Greyjoy**

_Dreams. Constant dreams of torture, death and destruction. Sometimes my destruction. Sometimes the destruction of others. All for the amusement of Ramsay Bolton. _

"Maester of All Seven Hells," I thought to call him, once.

Though he was not near me while awake, he haunted my dreams like a monster that could never be killed. He was there even when he wasn't; a reminder of what I had endured and the most chilling feature of my existence.

"Theon? Theon," a voice called me from my dreams.

The name sounded unfamiliar to me, yet the voice was soft and reminded me of simpler times. I opened my eyes to see Bree standing over me, her blue eyes like the ice-filled waters of Winterfell set in a permanent state of concern.

I had grown tired of her need to mother me. It was not the kind of love that Catelyn Stark had shown me, but the kind from someone who was not truly aware of who I was and the damage I once did.

"Do not look upon me that way!" I was struck by my own sense of anger.

Bree stood up straight but did not leave my side. I was lying on the stone floor to sleep, something she had made clear was unnecessary as she showed me the very large bed in the center of the room. She had chosen an unusually appropriate Inn that easily catered to the large amount she was willing to spend for a night's sleep in a clean place, yet she continued to ignore my inability to adhere to comforts the way I once had when she knew me, last.

"You can't sleep on the floor! You make noise and it's waking me up!" she countered.

"I am happy where I am!" I argued.

"Theon, this is not like you-" she started.

I rose up to my feet with a force I did not know I had and screamed, "MY NAME IS NOT THEON! IT IS REEK! REEEEEEKK!"

Her eyes only widened a little at my outburst. I was shocked by her refusal to back away from me, even when I revealed my worst side to her. Bree placed her hands on her hips and told me bluntly, "You will sleep at the foot of the bed! I command you, Theon Greyjoy!"

She pointed to where I should lay and stood her ground until I moved to do as I was told. I was only used to orders and commands at this point, and she had finally understood that.

Climbing into bed felt wrong to me, but the softness of it was something I could not object to. As I leaned down, my pants slipped down to expose my badly healed castration. I tried to hide the damage and return my pants to my hips, not daring to look upon Bree for her reaction. She said nothing, but I was aware that she now understood why I was so eager to throw away my namesake.

I lain in the elbows-to-knees position on my side that most suited me, a position where I was not as easily met with the force of Ramsay's boot at sunrise. Bree climbed in at the head of the bed, which only made me feel more unsettled. She sank underneath the covers and pushed her feet up against the small of my back. Our skins were separated by cloth, yet it felt as soothing as the touch of a hand-to-cheek.

"When you are ready, you may sleep beside me," Bree told me.

The Theon I once was would have not needed another invite to take a woman in bed. What I was now would never consider the request.

_I would sleep were the dogs would sleep. I would go no further._

* * *

**Sansa**

_I was disguised as a monster. I could feel only blackness surrounding me as I floated above Joffrey in his chambers. He was sleeping so soundly; the light of the moon casting a blue glow upon his face that made him look almost child-like. My feelings for him were gone, now. There was only an overwhelming hatred; a need to see him suffer._

_I slowly sank down upon him until I was mere inches from his face. My hands were like black clouds as I reached for his throat. I did not feel alive and my body did not seem like it was meant to work like it should, yet when I commanded my hands to bear down against Joffrey's neck, somehow, it worked._

_His eyes sprang open and he was frozen with fear. He could not scream for I had taken the wind from his grasp. He was so terrified to look upon me, yet there was a sense of the familiar in his gaze, like he knew exactly whom I was and why I wished to punish him._

"FATHER!" I screamed as I rose up in bed.

I was reaching out into the darkness, and it took several moments to become aware that I was reaching for no one. It was still night outside, and I was alone, save for Tyrion by my side.

I turned to face him, believing he would be awakened by my scream and asking what has become of me, but he had drank so much before that he was passed out as cold as the dead.

Slowly, I moved out of bed to stretch my legs. I went to the windowsill and let the cool night air wisp my trouble away. When it did not completely put me at ease, I decided to go for a walk along the nearest hall to my chambers. I was aware that I should not venture too far from Tyrion, but I did not believe I would encounter anyone at such a silent hour.

I was caught by surprise when I saw Jaime sitting on the ledge of an archway in the hall. His knees were dangling over and he was leaning so far that I feared I he would slip if I startled him. I waited until I was near enough for him to perceive me before saying, "Hello, Ser Jaime!"

He did not seem surprised as he turned to face me, and I was reminded that he was not keen in being referred to as anything other than simply Jaime. I bowed my head to him and he returned with a soft smile, his spirits more uplifted than at our last meeting.

"Have you come to ask me to fill you with a Lannister, dear girl?" he spoke as if it were both a joke and a statement of truth.

"I don't understand why you mock me," I shook my head at him.

He frowned as if he did not mean to hurt me with his words, then he quickly regained a grin to tell me, "Well, I don't understand why you won't let your husband do it. He is a Lannister and from what I've heard, a perfectly capable bed-mate. Whatever he lacks in height, he's been known to make up for in thrust."

I could only swallow my embarrassment at his harsh use of words. Jaime went on, if only to himself, "Perhaps being shorter makes him faster at it...like rabbits or something. You don't even know it's happened until it's over, and yet the female is perfectly willing to go on-"

"I don't think of Tyrion that way," I interrupted him.

He blinked like he was unaware if I had actually spoken or not, and I realized that he was perhaps more drunk than Tyrion had been hours, before. Jaime asked for more clarity, "You don't think of him as a rabbit, or you don't think of him as a lover?"

"As a lover. He's more like a father to me, and that's all he'll ever be," I confessed the truth.

Jaime stared at me a while longer, then he grew serious as he said to me, "Come to my chambers tomorrow night, after Tyrion has passed out. I will show you what it means to feel a lover's touch."

I could hardly believe his words. I assumed he was mocking me again, but his gaze was straight; his eyes never leaving mine. I spun around and stole away before he could change his mind, believing that if I could not find a love I truly wanted to fill me with child, I would find one I most adored.

* * *

**Jaime**

I was aware that what I had said to the girl was wrong. Even as the words were spoken, I fully intended to keep them and show Sansa Stark what she had so been missing.

"Fly away, Little Bird. Go back to your cage," I whispered to her as I watched the waves of her nightgown like wings fluttering until they disappeared into the shadows of night.

I glanced back over the ledge once more before moving away from it. Moments before, I was perfectly content with the idea of dropping off of it and meeting my death below, but now I wanted to preserve my life a little longer, if only to spend time with the innocent Sansa Stark, the only female in all of King's Landing who did not see me for the creature that I had become.

Perhaps suicide is a bit too dramatic. After all, I could simply call Joffrey a foul name and have my head removed.

What a true Lannister my son has become.

* * *

**Cersei**

"Mother! Mother!" I was called out of a deep and restless sleep.

I opened my eyes to see Joffrey as frightened as a child. He shook me roughly until I broke from his grasp and asked, "What is it?"

"Sansa Stark just tried to kill me in my sleep! I saw her, Mother! I SAW HER!" Joffrey screamed.


	5. Five

Five:

**Sansa**

I almost did not believe Ser Jaime's offer proposed last night. He wanted to take me to bed, and I was more than willing to do it. A part of me wondered what would happen if anyone were to find out, but I trusted that Jaime would not betray me to anyone. Still, I wanted to make certain that no one would ever question my loyalty to Tyrion. How I would do this was not yet clear, but Arya was always one I could turn to if I needed a good way to get out of bad trouble.

I rose to the morning sun and dressed for a newborn day. For the first time in many years, it felt as though butterflies were flying through my stomach and up to my windpipe. I questioned how I should dress and when I should make my appearances. My cheeks felt hot when I thought of Jaime and how he would see me come day's end. Would he keep his promise? I didn't dare fathom the idea that he had changed his mind.

Tyrion was already out for the day. I made point to find him and speak with him so that it did not appear to anyone that I were hiding. My appearance was most important on this day, because it was the day I would be taking on an affair to become the woman I know I was meant to be, and to give birth to a Lannister that I am certain would be one of royalty one day.

The thought crossed my mind that Joffrey would be older when my son reached his current age. Would Joffrey still be king? I doubted it. He was far too demanding to live a long and joyful life.

I placed my palm over my mouth and searched the room with my eyes for a moment. I suddenly felt a sense of being watched over, and as if my words had been spoken aloud for someone else to overhear. The room proved nothing out of place and no one near enough to listen, yet the sense of being watched over remained.

"Hello?" I asked my surroundings, wondering if possibly Tyrion were playing a game with me.

No one returned my greeting, though the sense did not ease up. I placed my hands on my hips to mock agitation, believing that no one would remain in hiding should they see that a proper lady like myself was not amused by their idea of fun.

The room remained the same, and agitation slowly began to give way to fear.

"Jaime?" I dared to call out to him despite the possibility that I were giving away our bond to someone who could easily end my life for the mere implication.

Silence. The only movement came from the dust collecting and flowing through the rays of light. I gazed around the room once more, taking notice of anywhere someone could be hiding, yet I surveyed no sound. No movement. Not a single breath of life but my own.

I questioned the feeling. Perhaps I was merely overexctied because I was planning to commit a transgression with Jaime. Yes, that must be it, yet I could not understand why the feeling only came after I thought of Joffrey being rushed into the arms of death.

The feeling grew stronger as soon as I thought of Joffrey a second time. It was almost stifling, like a very large person hovering so near to me that they could reach out and take me if they wanted to.

"Sansa," I heard someone whisper straight into my left ear.

Even as I turned around to face them, I felt the grooves of two fingertips brush across the back of my neck affectionately. I stood where I was a long space of time, trying to understand, but my eyes did not deceive me: There was no one with me.

"Robb," I spoke aloud what I knew inside my own mind.

I was certain the voice was his. I could somehow feel him smiling warmly while he gazed upon me, the way he did when he was aware I needed encouragement.

I was overcome with an idea that was only half my own. _He is encouraging me to think of Joffrey's death._

The butterflies I had felt earlier had withered and died inside of me. I felt only fear, shame and the idea that I was contributing to something very, very wrong.

_If Joffrey were dead, my son would have more access to the throne. He would never be in danger. I would be not unlike Cersei, counseling my son to be a king, but I would be a better queen regent than she ever was._

"Queen Regent Sansa Stark," I couldn't help smiling at the mere idea.

All negative feeling left me at once. I knew for certain I would need to go to Jaime tonight, no matter what the cost. My son would be future king, and I would let no one stop me.

Not even a raging boy king whom I once loved with all my heart.

* * *

**Littlefinger**

I had been hunting for Catelyn for weeks. Months, maybe. Time seemed of no consequence here in the wild, where voices are heard through whispers of the trees and the only sounds of eroticism are made from snakes attacking rodents or other predators devouring their prey.

It is a world not unlike King's Landing. I find it familiar, though boring in a sense that there is no naked skin to touch; no young girls to command. I never fathomed that leaving the confines of my well controlled girls would weigh upon me so much. They are like flowers to be plucked and staged for promising suitors, not reminders of simpler times that I would give anything to return to.

Catelyn is all I search for, now. She was, in her own way, all I've ever searched for. As a man who catered to the desires of others all my life, I was always aware of my own desires, yet I was also aware that Ned Stark was not an easy man to swindle so I could fulfill those desires.

With so many years spent wanting her, it should come easy to me to wait a while longer to find her, yet my desire has only been amplified by being away from civilian life. I have discovered that I am more like an animal than anyone ever gave me credit for.

After walking several miles to mid-day, I came upon an enormous white tree that appeared to have died long ago. It stood peculiar in an open landscape, free of crows and other animals both in-flight and grounded. Just a tree, standing on its own, looking as though it were merely painted there and had no reality to it at all.

I came near to it and pressed my hands against its white trunk. There were tiny dark grooves all around it, encircling the tree like flames rising up from its roots and reaching all the way through its branches. I considered that a lightning strike may have caused such an odd pattern, yet the way it rose up instead of came down made the grooves appear more deliberate rather than an act of nature.

My thoughts were cluttered as I kept my hands against the tree, surveying it for what felt like only a few moments. When I finally removed my hands, however, I gazed around and found myself in near-darkness.

Fear set in. I had not even begun to create a shelter for myself, let alone hunted for food. Predators would come upon me easily in this open space, and it would likely be hours before I reached higher ground.

"Petyr," I heard her call from behind me.

I closed my eyes a moment, not daring to turn around with the belief that this were all in my mind, and she would not truly be there.

"Petyr, are you lost?" her voice was more cutting than usual, as if she had not drunk in days.

She had to be real. I opened my eyes and slowly turned to face her. What my vision beheld was far worse than what my heart felt the day I was told that Catelyn Stark had been killed.

"You've come for me," her lips twisted into a dark sneer as she spoke the words like she was aware I would one day find her.

The darkness spared me much of her grotesque features, but it was clear that Catelyn was of the undead as the rumors had proclaimed. Her sparkling eyes were replaced with dead pools of gray. Her silken skin shredded and departing in some places. Her gorgeous strawberry hair had mostly fallen out, her royal dress was matted and smelled of rot, her tits were withered and sunken into her collapsed ribs, and perhaps most disturbing of all, a darkness surrounded her that shook me to my very core.

"I want to bring you back to King's Landing, to your daughters, Lady Catelyn," I told her sincerely.

My fear was easily noticed in the sound of my voice. Normally so confident and comfortable with Catelyn Stark, I had been reduced to the voice of a young boy half my age. She said nothing of it, yet her lips twitched ever so slightly as the wickedness surrounding her threatened to strike.

"Please, come home with me, Lady Catelyn. Your daughters need you," I reached out a hand to her.

Her expression grew clouded as she asked me, "My girls are in King's Landing?"

"Yes, Cat. They are safe for now, but there is no telling what King Joffrey would do if-"

I halted only because I could no longer keep my gaze on the wretched shell that was once the only woman I ever felt love for. She grew more agitated as she demanded to know, "How far have you come from King's Landing?"

I was compelled to answer her, "It has been a longer time than I believed it would take. Certainly weeks, if not months. The journey back should be more easily attainable, as I can find horses to take us much of the way home."

My eyes could only return to hers after I had finished. Her lips were twisted into a smile again, though it was one of evil. She spoke to me in little more than a whisper, "You should not have come for me."

Then she threw herself upon me, pinning me against the white tree.

For most of my life, I had dreamed of burying my face in the breasts of Lady Catelyn and stealing her heart. How unfortunate that as it is now coming true, I am taking no pleasure in the rotted skin and heart of stone that has become her.

* * *

**Jaime**

"Is there anything I can do for you, dear boy?" I asked Joffrey as he passed me in the stone hallway.

My comment was mean to inspire some kind of outrage from him for not referring to him as the king. I wanted to use his attention to gain Cersei's, as she walked alongside him while refusing to acknowledge my presence.

To my astonishment, Joffrey passed me without mention, as though I had said nothing at all. I glanced at the Kingsguard just behind them, and I was aware that one of them carried a newly-sharpened sword.

My son has thrown away a chance to ridicule me. Something is not right.

Cersei turned her head to one side, and her eyes glanced back at me. It was the first time in so long that she had made any form of mention to me, and it was a few moments before I was able to perceive what she were saying without words.

_Joffrey is about to do something horrible._

My thoughts went from my son to_ our_ son, and it was being made clear to me that Joffrey was planning something that could put his life or Cersei's life or both in peril. I followed casually behind them, taking heed not to be seen by Joffrey. They traveled down several hallways until they were at the door to Tyrion's room. The Kingsguard made their way in without hesitation, and I observed from behind the turn of the hallway as Joffrey stormed in and I heard Sansa begin to scream.

"You tried to kill me! You tried to kill me and so you are sentenced to die, you whore!" Joffrey screeched like a hawk clawing at a mouse.

Cersei stood in the doorway, unable or unwilling to step through. She must have been aware that Tyrion would not be here to defend his wife's honor, and it was very clear to me that I were the only Lannister at the moment willing to rescue a Stark.

I could still hear Sansa screaming as I came round and stormed my way past Cersei, acting as though I had only just come upon them after hearing Sansa's cries. Joffrey was just finishing removing her clothing, and Sansa sat curled up on her knees, trying desperately to hide her small body from the shame her king was submitting her to.

The Kingsguard with the sword stood staring, his sense of duty distracted by the backside and whatever else he could see of the little bird. I seized the moment to wretch the sword form his slacking fingers. He turned to face me and opened his mouth in outrage, yet when he saw that I was the one carrying his sword, he immediately shut his mouth and stepped aside.

"What are you doing, Jaime Lannister?! Give that sword back to my Kingsguard!" Joffrey ordered me.

Sansa glanced up at me through strands of her strawberry hair, and all I could see was cold, unbridled fear.

I glided the sword overhand and caught it as it slid into my palm. I kept it in a position where it would still appear threatening, though it did not appear that I planned to use it against my son. He glanced at the sword and a hard swallow traveled down his throat as his mind silently questioned whether I was still the famed swordsmen of old with the single hand I still had left.

"Why are you taking the life of a Lannister?" I questioned him seriously.

He pointed down at Sansa and spat, "She is not a Lannister! She is a Stark!"

"She is a Lannister by marriage, and so she is a member of our immediate family and the only one likely to bear more members of our lineage!" I countered.

I did not take my eyes away from Joffrey, so I could only sense the pain from my sister as I made it known her days of child-bearing were no longer a concern to me. Joffrey stood speechless, perhaps finally aware of what his decision would ultimately mean, yet he continued to argue as soon as he had gathered himself, "She tried to kill me last night! She was in my bed and she had her hands around my throat!"

"That is untrue," I made statement.

"How could you possibly say that with such assurance," Cersei asked from the doorway.

I refused to bring my eyes to hers, knowing I would only find spite and hatred there now that I had made it known she no longer appealed to me, a confession brought upon by her own actions yet somehow spun to rest only upon my shoulders. My eyes were only on Joffrey as I made another confession that would inspire Cersei's wrath, "Lady Sansa was with me last night, talking me off of a ledge, if I am not mistaken."

Again, Joffrey was rendered speechless. Sansa forced herself to look up just to meet my eyes and confirm that my words were true. I explained myself more for her than for the others, "I was very drunk and not thinking clearly. Sansa appeared from the path to Tyrion's room and spoke with me to lift my spirits. She was not aware that I was so near death. If she had not come to me last night, my body would most certainly be facedown on the shore by now."

Tears fell from Sansa's soft blue eyes. Joffrey showed much less emotion as he remarked, "Let us go then, Mother," and removed himself from the room along with his Kingsguard. I stood where I was a few moments longer, staring down upon Sansa until the door opened once more and Tyrion ruhed inside.

"What has happened?!" he shouted.

He took a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around his naked wife. Sansa could not look upon him, but buried her head in his chest as she began sobbing uncontrollably. I turned on my heel to take my leave, halting only when I heard Tyrion say, "I want that boy dead."

I faced him and saw a side of my brother I had never known, before. His eyes were like fire and his face one only of revenge as he made statement, "I want that boy dead, and I want you to be the one to kill him."


End file.
